


Habit

by podgle



Category: Control (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, managing to be slightly less useless, useless but adorable gays, very mild spoilers for the main game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:14:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24354910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/podgle/pseuds/podgle
Summary: Jesse and Emily are almost sorta kinda figuring out their relationship, albeit slowly and slightly obliviously. This is how movie night becomes a thing and then becomes A Thing.
Relationships: Jesse Faden/Emily Pope
Comments: 40
Kudos: 152





	Habit

Their first movie night happens because Emily off-handedly mentions that she's never seen _Alien_ before. Jesse, scandalized, insists that the situation needs to be rectified as soon as possible. At the end of the work day, the Director of the FBC marches into the Head of Research's office, takes her by the hand, and leads her down the street to a bodega to pick up salsa and chips before they hop on the subway back to Emily's apartment. 

The film is...fine. There are too many liberties with physics for a professional scientist's liking, but far more fascinating is that Jesse keeps up an almost constant commentary about the production, actors, and the movie's place in cinematic history. Jesse, it turns out, is a huge, unabashed film nerd. Emily is not above shamelessly encouraging her friend's commentary, and suggests that they watch the rest of the series. All in the pursuit of knowledge, of course. There was nothing she was more dedicated to. 

Until the second movie night, that is. Emily arrives at the apartment before Jesse, backpack full of chips and salsa. She's curious about her friend's delay, and even more so when Jesse turns up, shucks off her leather jacket, rolls up her sleeves, and commandeers the kitchen. Emily leans in the doorway, watching as Jesse mixes butter, brown sugar, salt and cinnamon with so much focus that her tongue pokes out of the corner of her mouth. Emily's found a new thing she wants to study for the foreseeable. 

“You know, for a woman who has no qualms about eating uncooked instant ramen out of the packet, this is surprisingly involved.” 

Jesse huffs slightly, but her smile gives her away. “Bold words from someone who owns one, singular, probably unused saucepan.” 

Emily has no argument. Jesse leans in to the hob and frowns slightly as the popping starts. Emily thinks of a zinger and is about to deliver it when Jesse holds up a forefinger to stop her. “Hush, I need to listen.” 

“Did you just-” 

“Shh. I'm doing science over here.” 

An hour later, sitting on the couch, listening to Jesse wax lyrical about Sigourney Weaver, crunching on the best popcorn she's ever eaten, Emily concedes the point. “You did some really good science.” 

Jesse's smile is soft and shy. “That's a real honour coming from you, Dr Pope.” 

Emily does, technically, want to know more about films. And repeating the popcorn experiment is just sensible; it's important to know if your results are a fluke. But mostly she wants to see Jesse again, relaxed, in pyjamas, staring at a saucepan like it owes her money. Again and again and again. 

On the third movie night, something's shifted. Initially, it is just Emily's office, temporarily turning up in the Astral Plane until Jesse cleanses a rogue stapler. She still has a staple in her hair when she meets Emily in the foyer at the end of the day, and for the first time ever, asks one simple question. 

“We going home?” 

Emily hesitates, just for a moment, as three hundred thoughts fly through her head at the same time. “Of course we are.” 

The invitation has always been, theoretically, a standing invitation. Emily considers it a simple, inviolable rule. Her couch is now Jesse's bed, her old MIT sweats are Jesse's pyjamas. She could come home, find her friend redecorating the walls, and it would just be what it was. It'd be nice to get rid of that godawful magnolia color, come to think of it. Until now, though, Jesse still felt the need to ask, to justify why she wasn't sleeping in the director's office, promising not to make a mess. Emily has yet to mention that she still smiles a little dopily at seeing two mugs and two plates sat beside the sink. It feels like too much. 

Not now. Not now that Jesse's calling their place _home_. Other than Ordinary, Emily hasn't heard her call anywhere else home. Listed a lot of locations, mentioned some deathtrap buildings she existed in alongside bedbugs and cockroaches and building code violations, and something she euphemistically referred to as 'the pit' which was, well. After that story, Emily upgraded the couch blankets to a light duvet; maybe it was the supernatural powers, maybe it was Jesse's inability to sit still for very long, but she was always so damn warm. Noticing this is not odd, the (professional) scientist tells herself. Observation is her job, and a job that she does very well. Science. 

With that one simple question, Jesse moves in. There's no moving of boxes, there's no need when Jesse owns nothing more than the clothes she was wearing when she walked into the FBC. She did have half a packet of mint Lifesavers, but gave those to Emily when a canteen burger leads to a case of the bubbly guts right before the Head of Research makes her budget pitch for the year. 

“I would have given you the money even if you'd thrown up on the table,” Jesse laughs. 

“I'll keep that in mind for next fiscal.” 

“Probably would have given you more, come to think of it.” 

“I'm allergic to clams, so I'll make sure it's a truly spectacular presentation next time. Pope's getting a new lyophilizer!” 

“Clams, huh?” Jesse says, thoughtfully. 

By the fourth movie night, she's been living in the apartment for a couple of weeks. They've had a lot of practice being domestic during Jesse's previous stays, so the change in routine is effortless. Emily uses the bathroom first in the morning because she takes longer, Jesse doesn't mind the washing up but hates vacuuming with a passion, and they're both so chronically useless at cooking that they order in most of the time. They've discovered that Jesse has strong opinions on guacamole, and Emily would fistfight anyone for the last gyoza. In her defense, she only threatened to stab her friend with a fork once. Perhaps remembering the enthusiasm Emily had for black rock-crafted knives, Jesse backs off, hands held in the air in defeat. 

“We really need to get that field training sorted out. Give some of these violent tendencies of yours an outlet.” 

Emily grins around a mouthful of siu mai. “Just don't fuck with my dumplings.” 

Jesse chokes on her egg fried rice and goes bright red. Emily collapses into peals of laughter, filing away the response to her innuendo. For science, of course. 

Emily finds herself happy, possibly giddy, but also uncertain about this new living situation. Uncertainty in her professional life is easy and motivational. A well-designed experiment will clear that right up. Uncertainty in her personal life was brand new and she suspected that Jesse, although amenable to the tests on her powers, perhaps might not be completely into a sixty to ninety minute interrogation plus minor electrical currents and/or radiation bombardments to get to the bottom of what _this_ was. 

_This_ was currently sitting on the couch together, huddling under the duvet, Emily's feet in Jesse's lap, watching the Indiana Jones trilogy (Emily's enquiry about the fourth film was met with a rant that was equal to her own passion for following a well-designed workflow), and reaching for homemade popcorn from the same bowl. 

_This_ was listening to her best friend, her hero, her...personal film scholar talking about presentations of archaeology in the 80s movies, and wanting to, well, yeah. 

“How did you learn all this stuff?” Emily asks, distracting herself before she breaks this thing that's so precious to her, shatters it into so many pieces. 

“Archaeology?” Jesse reaches for more popcorn. 

“Films, dork,” Emily nudges her in the side with a foot. 

“I wouldn't pass for an archaeologist?” 

“Not in this dimension.” 

“Cold, Pope.” She chews thoughtfully. “My dad used to say that the town sign should say 'Ordinary by name, Ordinary by nature'. It was small, in the middle of nowhere, and boring as hell.” 

Emily keeps very still, listening to every word. They've talked, a lot, so much, but Jesse has never gone into her childhood. They've discussed Dylan and his progress, pondered some theories about Polaris, but it's all been in the present tense, and they don't go near Ordinary. 

Something's shifted again. _This_ has shifted. 

Jesse laughs mirthlessly to herself. “We played in the garbage dump, for fuck's sake. It was hardly a rocking kind of a town.” She shrugs. “There was a library. It was small, but I liked it. Quiet. Nice when Dylan was being a pain in the ass. His literary tastes stopped at comic books so he never followed me there. I thought I was super sophisticated because I liked horror stories and murder mysteries. So very grown up.” 

Jesse sighs, then plays with a loose thread from the duvet cover. “This old couple ran a video rental store on Main Street. Well, it was a pet food and movie rental store, don't ask me why. You could rent two movies for a dollar for a week, so that's what I spent my allowance on. They wouldn't let me get anything too scary, but I watched things that were well out of my age range and loved them all. I was in there so often that the owners sometimes slipped an extra movie in for free.” 

“That's sweet,” Emily says, thinking of tiny film buff Jesse. 

“They were. They really were.” Jesse's voice cracks, ever so slightly. Emily reaches over and takes one of Jesse's hands. It's a little cold and clammy, and there are small, raised white scars on her knuckles. 

“Dad found this busted VCR in the thrift store. He fixed it up, and gave it to me with our old television that didn't show the colour green any more. Dylan could watch cartoons and I could watch my films. Pretty certain it was just to buy dad some peace so he could read the paper.” 

“Did you and Dylan fight a lot?” 

Jesse considers this for a moment. “I guess, maybe? I don't know. He was younger than me, and wanted to tag along on everything that I was doing. I was eleven and he seemed so little and uncool and _annoying_. Sometimes I was really mean to him, just to get him to go away.” 

Emily's an only child, and feeling out of her depth. “That's the way siblings work, right? Find a weak spot and just...go for it until you either fight about it or someone needs therapy?” 

“Probably. Maybe I'm just reading into it, but when you ditch your brother in the middle of a supernatural crisis and he gets taken by a secretive government agency, you start to overthink the times you could have been a better sister.” She tries to lighten her tone, the way she always does when it's getting a little too personal. “Maybe I should have shared those animal crackers with him when I was five. I didn't even eat them all. Took them out in the backyard and buried them in a hole.” 

“We should go back and see if they're still there,” Emily says, running her thumb over Jesse's knuckles. 

“We should check the Ordinary AWE room and see if they're included in the model.” 

“And put them there if they aren't. It could have been a poorly-considered ratio of tigers to bears that kicked the whole thing off.” 

Jesse's smile falters, and Emily's heart breaks. “I really fucked up, Em.” 

“No, sweetie. No, you didn't. You were eleven years old, you'd seen things that would make any adult panic, and people were trying to kidnap you. Imagine if you hadn't run away? Both you and Dylan would be locked up in the Panopticon, with no hope of escaping. I can't even imagine...” 

Clearing her throat, Jesse continues. “Anyway. When I was on the move, I couldn't always find a motel room or a sheltered doorway or whatever, so a cinema was a good bet. Air conditioning in summer, heating in winter. And I was good at paying for one film and accidentally staying for two or three. It's amazing what you can get away with if you pretend to be asleep.” 

“I'll keep that in mind for the next AGM.” 

“Don't you dare leave me to face that alone, Emily Pope.” 

“Spoilsport.” 

“So yeah. I watched a lot of films that way. Read a lot of free cinema magazines. Chatted with the staff, the ones who didn't care I wasn't an entirely paying customer. Perfected the finest popcorn recipe. Doesn't really seem fair when Dylan was being kept behind bars.” 

“You were on the run from the government. I'm not sure it was a carefree life.” 

“No, no, it wasn't. Still better than what he got. I fucked up so bad.” Jesse's face crumples, and Emily sees her cry for the first time, feels tears prickle in her own eyes. _This_ shifts again, and without thinking Emily pulls Jesse into a tight hug, holding her as she sobs out seventeen years of burden. 

“It's okay. You did everything you could. We're gonna fix it all,” Emily murmurs into the top of Jesse's head, over and over, hoping that this particular incantation can make it past Polaris' protection. 

They stay that way until Jesse quietens, her breathing becoming deeper and more even until Emily realises that she's fallen asleep. Something's digging into Emily's back, she's at risk of knocking the half-full popcorn bowl over onto the floor, and she has no clue where the remote is so she could be watching _The Last Crusade_ on repeat for hours, but she refuses to move. Whatever she is right now for Jesse, she's going to be exactly that thing for as long as she's needed. 

Emily wakes sometime around noon, the sort of lie-in she hasn't had since, well, maybe college? Her spine is probably not spine-shaped any more, and one arm is so numb it basically doesn't exist any more. She forgets her discomfort when she realises that Jesse is no longer draped on top of her, and adrenaline takes over. She's halfway through a plan to apologise for whatever happened last night, one that probably doesn't include electric currents but frankly she's not above it to get Jesse back, if that's what it takes, when she realises that the living room smells of something delicious. 

Jesse is in the kitchen, every conceivable surface covered in a mixture of flour, possibly sugar, plates, bowls, an empty milk carton, discarded food packets, and what looks like a box of animal crackers. Emily leans against the doorframe, watching. 

“This is really complicated popcorn.” 

Jesse's eyes are bloodshot and she looks tired, but her smile is genuine. “Do you know how hard it is to cook fried breakfast when we only own one pan?” 

There it is again. The shift. “We better take a trip to IKEA.” 

“Only if I can bring the Service Weapon.” 

“Deal.” 

Jesse rubs her shoulder. “About last night...” 

Emily steps into her postage stamp-sized kitchen. There's not enough room for them both to use it at the same time, so she's close, maybe too close, but fuck it. _This_ is too good to waste, too big to pretend it doesn't exist. She brings a hand up to Jesse's cheek, looks her in the eye and moves in slowly enough for Jesse to realise what's going on and say no if needed. 

The kiss is soft, tentative, and maybe a little uncertain. Emily pulls away enough to rest her forehead against Jesse's, who is looking a little dazed but ultimately very pleased. “I'm here for everything that happened last night. The hanging out, the very unprofessional archaeologists-” 

“Really, Em?” 

“-I'm just saying that those items should have been appropriately catalogued _before_ they were moved. Anyway, I am there for that. And I am there for the tough bits. I want to share it all.” 

“Okay. Yeah. Okay. Me too.” 

“Maybe we don't fall asleep on the sofa again? I'm not eighteen any more and I think I've displaced a rib or five.” 

Jesse looks puzzled for a moment. 

“My bed, Jess. Our bed.” 

“Oh. _Oh_. Okay, yes.” 

“Glad that's sorted.” Emily presses a kiss to her girlfriend's cheek. “Now feed us breakfast. I have a whole speech saved up about how you can't shoot the tail of your own plane off, even in a dogfight with Nazis. You're going to need your stamina.”

**Author's Note:**

> I took the liberty of giving Emily a PhD (I at least don't recall any references to Dr Pope in the game, let me know if I'm wrong) because it makes sense for her personality and the plot. I think she'd want to pursue a subject in mega detail because she's a massive nerd who loves knowing things, and I suspect the FBC (and Darling) would be looking for extremely talented postgrads. The FBC seems quite hierarchical and titles would count. 
> 
> I also think Jesse would go and find Emily's thesis in the library, check it out and try really hard to read the entire thing despite not understanding all of it. And she'd write down her favourite bits and questions to talk to Emily about them later on.


End file.
